


Highway to Hell

by jellybeanforest



Series: The Road Not Taken [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Background Starmora - Freeform, Blame Game, Gen, Hints of Past Ambiguous Kragdu, Hurt/Comfort, Nebula Week 2018, Nebula-Centric, Peter Quill Discourse, Post Infinity War, Pre-Kragula if you squint, Road Trip, Siblings, platonic comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 11:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15605364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellybeanforest/pseuds/jellybeanforest
Summary: It’s a long road back to Earth, but that’s barely enough time for Nebula and Kraglin to hash out who deserves the most blame as they come to terms with the deaths of their siblings in the aftermath of the Snap.For Nebula Week 2018 Day 2 - Family





	Highway to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> The concept behind this story is that since the end of GotG Vol 2, the core Guardians have essentially gelled together as a family. However, Peter’s sort-of brother, Kraglin, and Gamora’s sister, Nebula, only have passing contact with the Guardians and while they are considered by the core Guardians as family, they haven’t actually spent that much time with each other. Nebula feels a little guilty about Yondu’s death and immediately leaves mid-funeral to chase Thanos. Kraglin spends a little more time with the Guardians in the direct aftermath of Vol 2 as he learns to control the Yaka arrow, but he eventually leaves as well. Both visit their Guardians family, but not usually at the same time. Nebula being emotionally-stunted and Kraglin not being that much better, they have never addressed the elephant in the room, so to speak. 
> 
> Until now.

_At random. Dispassionate. Fair._

That is what Thanos’s vision had always been.

Of course, Nebula had long suspected it was bullshit. Even as a child, she had been cast as the scapegoat, the spare, disposable in his aim to perfect the physical prowess and emotional fortitude of his favored elder daughter, Gamora.

But now, now she knew–

There was nothing fair about this.

Whereas Nebula had long nursed her own rage over their shared childhood trauma, Gamora had thrived. She had found a new family, had even offered to take Nebula herself into that fold of optimistic semi-heroic half-wits, but Nebula hadn’t been able to shake her emnity, her need for revenge, and so had left to seek her vengeance against their adoptive father. Nebula had never intended to survive her mission and took a modicum of comfort in the fact that her sister had escaped the cycle of abuse and hatred…

It was never supposed to be her.

Now, with Gamora dead and the remnants of their shattered family dissipated into ash, Nebula feels more alone than ever.

The metal man doesn’t count. Crouched down in abject failure, tears streaming down his cheeks in the wake of his child’s death, Tony Stark cradles his face in his hands, immobilized by his grief.

He sits. Defeated. Weak. Stupid.

They can’t stay here.

“We need to leave,” Nebula states stiffly, logically. “The Milano will have supplies to tend to your injuries as we make our way back to your homeworld.”

And so, Nebula does what she always does in the face of devastating loss: Pick herself up and move forward. At her not-so-gentle cajoling, Stark struggles to rise and takes a few shuffling steps far too slow for her tastes, so Nebula begrudgingly pulls his arm across her shoulders and half-drags him towards the awaiting M-ship in silence. She could leave him, should leave him, but the soft voice in her head that sounds like Gamora whispers that enough lives have ended today, and if she has learned one thing in this debacle, it’s that certain death is no mercy.

Once they reach the ship, Nebula notes the blinking yellow light indicating an emergency transmission. She deposits Stark on the floor just inside the hatch, but before she can check the message, another video call is coming through. The dopey avatar flashing across the screen indicates it’s the brother of her sister’s idiot. Nebula’s finger hovers over the answer button for a good three seconds before she swipes to accept, against her better judgment.

“Pete, I’ve been tryin’a – Oh, Nebula… Is Pete there? I don’t know what the fuck’s goin’ on, but half my crew just fuckin’ disintegrated. We near crashed into an asteroid when the pilots went missin’, an’ the feed says it’s happenin’ all over. Is Pete okay?” His painfully-casual tone is tinged with worry.

“Quill’s gone. Mantis and Drax, too. Gamora’s dead. I don’t know about Rocket or Groot. They weren’t with the rest of them,” Nebula reports, her voice gruff but quiet. Nebula hates being the bearer of bad news, especially to Obfonteri. It will be yet another thing this man holds over her head.

There’s a pause as Kraglin processes the news. He covers his eyes and exhales slowly. “No survivors?” He manages softly.

“No.” Nebula has never counted herself in that number.

“…Send me your coordinates. I’ll be there to… I don’t know… lend support?”

“The Milano only needs one pilot to function,” she states, cool and crisp.

“Fuck… Nebula, this ain’t the time to… Jus’ send me the coordinates. I’ll be there. If it makes ya feel better, my ship is crippled from the sudden lack o’ men, an’ I could use the extra set of hands, yeah? I’ll take whatever allies I can git, an’ we’ll figure this out… or somethin’,” he says firmly, in a tone that suggests this is not negotiable.

When she is not immediately forthcoming with the requested information, Kraglin bites back bitterly, “Fer once in yer life, woman, be a stars-damned team player.”

Nebula considers telling him to self-fornicate, that he’s on his own, but she supposes Gamora would want her to at least attempt to rally their fractured family, however tenuous the connection. It’s the least she can do.

“We’re on Titan, Coordinates 3-5-2-9-T-K-1-1-5.”

 

* * *

 

Later, after the Milano docks on the Third Quadrant, Nebula and Tony Stark pool their knowledge to explain the events leading up to the dissolution of half the galaxy’s inhabitants.

“So… that’s how it all went down?” Kraglin sounds resigned as he cups his hands around his coffee mug, staring into its dark depths.

Neither guest opts to answer.

He sighs deeply. “Pete was always an idjit. Always knew he’d git ‘imself dead one day, but to take half the universe with ‘im… that takes a special kind’a stupid.”

“Gamora should have never told Thanos the location of the Soul Stone. She should have let him kill me instead, that sentimental fool,” Nebula commiserates. She will never forgive Gamora’s error in saving her at the cost of her own life.

“I hear ya. Yondu used’a tell Pete that sentiment would git ‘im in trouble, an’ then he meets yer sister, an’ all sense evaporates like that.” Kraglin snaps his fingers callously.

_Did he just…?_

Nebula clutches her own mug, barely holding herself back from throwing it just above the spindly man’s head. With luck, his reflexes won’t factor in the added height of the implanted crest, and the subsequent impact will cause a well-deserved migraine.

“Are… are you saying my sister _ruined_ Quill?” Her tone is dangerous, daring Kraglin to confirm his implication.

“I ain’t sayin’ shit, but before Gamora, Pete never looked twice at a broad, much less died fer one. He was a grade-A selfish prick, jus’ like Yondu taught ‘im ta be. It helped the brat survive fer a good twenty-five years or so,” he spits out defensively, face pinched with displeasure.

“ _Immortality_ helped him survive,” Nebula points out, voice raspy with fury. “Gamora was mortal and learned to survive as such. She was our father’s favorite, an unfeeling assassin, before she met your precious little brother. He was the one that made her so selfless and dim-witted that it cost her her life.”

“If it was up ta Pete, he never would’a become a hero to begin with. He told me Gamora was the one what wanted to give Nova the Power Stone. See how well that turned out fer Xandar,” Kraglin asserts, voice rising in Peter’s defense.

Not one to be outdone, Nebula counters, “Gamora used to aide Thanos in my suffering, besting me in our unceasing contest and never once even considering that every loss would result in my slow dismemberment. But now, she can’t bear to see me in a _little_ pain when the entire universe is at stake? That’s clearly Quill’s influence.”

“Well Pete–“

“Girls! Girls! You’re both pretty,” Tony interjects from the sidelines, squinting his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger. He’s had enough of their petty squabbling for the day, and besides, the identity of the guilty party is obvious. “Both your siblings made decisions that contributed to what happened, but especially that Starlord guy, who couldn’t wait ten seconds for us to get the Infinity Gauntlet off.”

Kraglin turns to face Stark. “The fuck did you say?”

“What?” Nebula seethes, rounding on the man as well. “He had just learned my sister had been murdered by our father. I would have done the same if I had been faster and in striking distance.”

“Yeah! An’ Gamora only told ‘im ‘bout the stone to save her sister ‘ere, an’ she died fer it. Have a li’l respect fer the dead, jackass!” Kraglin barks, completely forgetting their recent animosity in solidarity against a common enemy.

“I’m only agreeing with you both.” As usual, Tony is surrounded by contrary assholes.

“You would have done the same for the spider-child,” Nebula piles on. It’s a low blow, but she is past caring.

“You may be right, but I haven’t lost him yet,” Tony says pensively, lips glancing against his interlaced fingers while tapping his right forefinger against the back of his left hand.

Perhaps Stark’s denial was a symptom of a greater madness brought on by grief. Nebula doesn’t have much experience with Terrans, but they seemed a mentally-fragile lot, based on a sample size of one. It may be kinder and ultimately more prudent to take him out now, before he can wreck havoc on any future designs against Thanos. Nebula had thought she had nothing to lose before, but now it has truly become a reality, and as such, she is leaving nothing to chance in her bid for violent retribution.

“I saw him dissolve into dust in your arms,” she says flatly, her body tensing in anticipation of a potential physical altercation bred from lending voice to that emotionally-devastating truth.

“Like that’s going to stop me?” Tony scoffs, scratching the scruff of his chin. “I’m going to get him back. I’m going to get them all back. I just need to return to Earth, assemble whatever’s left of my team, and we’ll figure out something. Strange said there was only one path to victory and that what he did, giving up the Time Stone, it was the only way we win. The _only_ way. We’re down, but we’re not out. This is the endgame. We just have to regroup and figure out how we come back from this.”

Addressing the two before him, he proposes, “So are you in or are you out?”

_If it sounds too good to be true…_

Kraglin looks to Nebula, who simply nods her head in the affirmative.

Really, what more did she have to lose?

 

* * *

 

With the sudden disappearance of half the crew, there is a surplus of sleeping spaces, allowing Kraglin to offer individual beds to Nebula and Stark. Nebula chooses to sleep on the Milano instead, which had served as Gamora’s home for the last four years and still contained many of her personal touches.

She lies awake in one of the bunks when the door to the Milano creaks open, revealing a tipsy Kraglin, swerving a bit as he leans against the threshold, clinging on to the side of the open door to steady himself. She sits up to glower at her nighttime intruder.

“Um… I was wonderin’ if… ya know…” he stumbles nervously over his words as he practically trips over his own feet upon entering the ship.

“I’m not interested in having sex with you,” Nebula declares bluntly, her glare severe. She knows Ravagers in general have a certain reputation, but was he really so disgusting he’d try to twist today’s tragedy into an opportunity for seduction?

_Typical._

Kraglin’s startled demeanor gives way to an insulted expression. “Oh please, y’ain’t even m’ type!”

Nebula gives him a bland look, one eyebrow raised. She’s bald, blue, morally ambiguous…

“Okay fine, yer exactly my type,” he slurs, “but I swear I ain’t thinkin’ with m’ dick right now. Li’l Petey jus’ died. He’s dead. All o’ ‘em are dead. Fuck, I don’t know ‘bout Rat an’ the kid, but they might be gone too.”

“So, you’re looking for what? A hug?”

“It sounds so stupid when ya say it,” Kraglin concedes. He stands at the foot of the bunk, holding on to one of the support beams to keep standing more-or-less upright. “Ya know, when Petey was small, he used’a always want’a sleep with me. Never even wanted to keep ‘im, but he was so scared o’ the other crew, scared o’ Yondu, too, the dumb li’l fuck. An’ then he left us to make ‘is own crew with Gamora an’ all ‘em, an’… they were my family after Yondu an’ all m’ friends died, an’ now I’m the only one left. Again.”

There he goes again, as if he’s the only one who’d lost everything.

“They were my family, too,” Nebula says.

“That don’t make us family,” Kraglin affirms harshly. “It don’t work like that.”

They’d never really talked about it: the mutiny and its aftermath. After she left Yondu’s funeral mid-eulogy, Kraglin had stayed with the Guardians to hone his skill with the Yaka arrow and perhaps regain his equilibrium after losing so much. After he left to become a Captain in his own right, they had both visited the crew of the Milano here and there at different times, their paths never crossing. They didn’t necessarily do it to avoid each other, but it’s just how it had worked out. As a result, they never addressed what had happened to Yondu and their mutual culpability.

“You still blame me for your Captain’s death,” Nebula states. “You two were… close.”

Kraglin chooses to address only the former sentiment. “You did shoot ‘im.”

“Udonta was nothing to me. You were the one who betrayed him,” she points out.

“Tell me ‘bout it.”

They stare at each other, neither backing down from their position. Nebula is the first to break the silence. “You’ve changed a lot since we sold out Udonta together. Less squirrelly.”

“So ‘ave you. You’ve lost yer edge.”

“I liked you better before.”

“Same ‘ere.” Kraglin replies. He looks away before turning towards the door. “Screw it. This’s what I git fer tryin’a be nice.”

“I’m not the one in need of a bed-fellow, Obfonteri,” Nebula points out, but she scoots over to one side nonetheless, flipping back the blankets slightly. “Now, get in before it gets cold.”

Kraglin thinks about it for a long moment before walking over to drop into the open space next to Nebula. It’s a tight squeeze, so he turns to face the warm body next to him. He hesitates to slide an arm across the neutral territory of her midsection. When she doesn’t protest, he cuddles in closer, curling his body to rest his forehead lightly against her upper arm.

“This changes nothing,” she tells him. Her nose turns up at the strong smell of body odor and liquor permeating his skin and breath. “I still dislike you, and I will likely kill you when this is over.”

“Right back at cha, sister,” he murmurs.

“Don’t call me that.” He’s not Gamora, never will be, and she doesn’t need any more siblings.

There’s blissful silence, then: “Do ya believe Stark?” he asks, his voice rough with a touch of vulnerability borne of fragile hope. “He talks big, but ya think he’ll be able ta bring back Petey an’ all o’ ‘em?”

Nebula is silent as she contemplates an answer. “We’ll get them back,” she says softly, “or barring that…”

“Revenge,” he finishes as his arm squeezes her in tighter.

Nebula pats his extended wrist in soothing circles then settles her hand on top of his as Kraglin slips into drunken slumber and starts to lightly snore.

In the morning, they’ll go back to cautious allies, even occasional adversaries, but for now, they stay lying there, two outcasts holding each other in their shared grief, being lonely together.


End file.
